Strawberry Wine
by icydragonfire
Summary: After poisoning Daisuke, losing his memory, and landing them both in the hospital, Krad remembers nothing and no one. Until a dying redhaired boy sharing his room risks everything to save him...from Dark.
1. Act 1: Strawberry Wine

This is what happens when you watch too many Asian serials, you know those things that go on for 30 episodes. Welcome to my little drama. Stay for the show.

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**Strawberry Wine/ Act 1: Strawberry Wine**

Krad took a sip of his wine and swept the hall with his glare. Around him, women and men made fools of themselves, prancing around to century-old gavottes and waltzes. If it weren't for the fact that Niwa had agreed to attend, he wouldn't be here for all the money in the world.

He smiled into his glass. Niwa.

A breathy young girl crashed into him, having just completed a rigorous tango with her cocky, bow-tied consort. "Oh goodness," she said, and then spun away, led by her tuxedoed prince, not bothering to notice the plum-colored addition to the front of Krad's clothes.

To let out his fury, without getting thrown out of the mansion, Krad got another drink.

He got back just when the quartet leader stood up and announced the next song. By now, the duchess was glancing nervously at the balcony, where her nieces were going to make their entrances. Krad rolled his eyes at the tipsy party guests, all the while wishing that he wasn't wearing _white, _but then again, he hadn't planned on coming to a black-tie ball when he picked out his wardrobe.

"Ah! The mademoiselles!" The cello player stood up instantly and the music stopped. "Misses Riku, Risa---."

Krad paused in the sipping of his alcoholic beverage and gazed upward.

There, in the light of a crystal chandelier, were the Harada twins. And a consort.

----------------------------/**when/we/don't/know/the/answer/we/stay/silent/**--------------------------------

Risa was not happy. Dark, due to some freak poisoning----no one would tell her anything, even Daisuke----could not attend, and now as her giddy sister danced, she could only watch.

"It's not fair," she muttered. "I deserve some of the spotlight."

A waft of cologne caught her off guard. "Who is that dancing with your sister?" a deep voice asked her.

Spinning around, reacting to a voice extremely like Dark's, Risa was disappointed by a blond man with a purple pocket on his tux that strangely clashed with his white attire. "D-Daisuke," she said, biting her lip. How was it that he weirdly resembled Dark?

The man smiled. And Risa, heart flipping, forgetting that Dark's hair was the color of the man's drink, forgetting Dark----nearly fell head over heels when he asked, "Would you like to dance?"

----------------------------/**sometimes/we/fall/from/grace/and/we/fall/hard/**--------------------------------

"Riku!"

Her sister calling her from halfway across the banquet hall, Riku left Daisuke by the punch table and huffily turned toward the noise. "What now, Risa?"

Risa beamed, dragging a man behind her. "I'd like you to meet Krad!" she exclaimed. "Isn't he dreamy?"

Riku scrunched up her eyebrows. Yes, Krad was dreamy in the way that vampires were dreamy, in the dangerous way Dark was dreamy, so it was predictable that Risa would like him.

"Er," she said out loud.

"Pleased to meet you too," Krad said graciously, a displeased smile plastered on his face.

Riku backed away. "Uhhh…Risa, we need to talk. Um, over there. Really far."

Krad's smile broadened. Risa sighed. "Fine. Krad, stay here for a sec, will you? I'll be back, baby-cheeks!"

For a second, it seemed as though a dark (HAHA) cloud passed over Krad's face. And then it was gone.

"Sure, I'll go talk to Niwa---your boyfriend. What's his name? Daisuke?"

"Yes," replied Riku, edging away with her twin. "And don't even think of hurting him."

Krad strode to the punch, pretending he had not heard.

------------------------/**the/music/quickens/the/tempo/swells/but/we/are/deaf**/-----------------------------

"Hello."

Spoonful of punch. "Eh?" Daisuke turned around. His amber eyes widened. He dropped the punch.

Luckily, the gentleman in charge of beverages readily handed him another one. "Be careful, sir." As if Daisuke was listening.

"Y-you!" he gasped.

Krad looked down at him as one might look down on prey. "Why don't I hold that for you, Niwa?" he asked, a nasty smile spreading.

In shock, Daisuke blankly let Krad receive his punch. He did not notice the powder that was mixed into his drink.

"You are quite pale," Krad continued sweetly, like poisoned honey. "Want a drink now? It's your favorite. Strawberry…"

Daisuke choked as the fruity potion was forced down his throat.

"There, better…?"

No. This was not better. Daisuke grabbed the edge of the table and missed. This was what he saw Dark going through last month. And he had not seen Dark since, nor heard from him. There were rumors that Dark would not recover.

He thought he heard laughing as he fell.

--------------------------------/**how/can/I/help/you/if/I/can't/help/myself/**-----------------------------------

"Ambulance!"

"Daisuke! Daisuke!"

"My goodness gracious!"

"He fainted! Or did he drink too much?"

In the excitement, no one noticed Krad, who stood smirking a little ways off, sipping causally.

His mistake. He had grabbed a cup of punch, not wine. The punch was strawberry. Strawberries were nearly lethal to Krad.

The ambulance carried off two people that night, as it sped toward the Azumano Greater Hospital.

--------------------------**/what/heals/sometimes/hurts/what/hurts/sometimes/heals**------------------------

When Daisuke woke up, he was surrounded by so many flowers and presents he vaguely thought he was in a jungle. Then a nurse came in, his headache started, and he fell asleep.

When he woke up again, it was to the insistent beeping of machines and a hushed voice.

"Don't disturb him," the voice said. "Bad case. Memory loss."

Daisuke noticed there was now a curtain erected in the middle of the room, dividing it into halves. A doctor was apparently conversing on the other side, and from the sound of it, nurses were helping a new patient settle in.

"All done. Poor thing, can't hear us. Leave him be. Rest might prove helpful."

Yawning, Daisuke leaned back into the pillow, as the doctor and nurses marched out past his bed. The moon illuminated the window across the room, so that through the thin curtain, Daisuke could see shadows of a table and a hospital bed. Cool, he thought sluggishly. That patient gets a window bed.

He slept. And woke to Emiko's kisses and Riku's hugs and pats on the head from so many people his head hurt for that reason. And opened all his presents and slept and ate.

But there was a drumming in the back of his head that would not stop. And one day, he heard the doctors telling a crying Emiko that he had been fed poison, that a brain tumor had started growing in his brain from the residue. At night he had chills and dreams of angels and strawberries.

And woke and did everything all over again.

The hospital got boring. Needles poked him everyday, and blood and urine tests irritated his sensitive bodily functions. There was nothing to do in his room, and they forbade him to look in on his roommate, the one with the "memory loss".

So he stayed behind the curtain, and fell into fits more and more often, would eat less and less. But other than the obvious signs of weight loss, he felt fine. He wanted to be discharged from the hospital, but for some reason, everyone said no.

Then one night, he couldn't sleep. The CAT scan the next day made him apprehensive, and the window was open across the room, behind the curtain.

Overcome by curiosity, Daisuke slipped a foot out. He would have an excuse to go exploring. The window was open, and there was a breeze. He could say he couldn't sleep with wind.

So, slowly, he crept along the linoleum floor, past the life support and the clipboards, determined to find out about his mysterious companion.

He pushed the curtain aside a few inches and listened. No noise. He pushed it more and it rolled back. With a racing heart, he put a foot into the opening.

Halfway across the forbidden space, his conscience gave out and he looked around. The first thing he saw was how bare the room was. No flowers, no gifts. Next to the only table laid the bed. In it, lay a groaning body.

Every step an effort, the classic heart-pounding-out-of-chest sensation affecting him, Daisuke leaned over the bed.

In it lay a blond, his long, long hair streaming out over the edge of the bed, so at first Daisuke thought him a girl. Creeping just a little closer, Daisuke parted the hair just a bit, to see the face.

Dark in a wig? The face was familiar.

Too familiar. "AHHH!"

A nurse came rushing in to the sound of a crashing table and a horrified scream. She ripped apart the curtain and gaped at the mess. "Oh look what you've done!" she cried.

"I'm sorry!" Daisuke cried. "I didn't mean to break the table!"

"Not that!" she shook her head, still wide-eyed. "You've woken him!"

Aghast, Daisuke looked up into the face of one of his long-standing enemies, expecting a sneer. Instead, Krad, hair streaming, sat up dizzily in the bed and asked in a dazed voice, "Where am I?"


	2. Act 2: Seventeen

_And they were made in the likeness of each other, reflecting what the other did not possess, one light, one dark. One daemon, one angel, but who is to say which is which? For when the mind is shattered and the body poisoned, light and dark may become Dark and Light. _

_Each part of them was to fit into the other perfectly. Made like puzzle pieces, their bodies could be melded as one. _

_Hikari text, ca 1925_

oO Oo oO Oo oO Oo oO Oo

**Strawberry Wine/ Act 2: Seventeen**

"Mrs. Niwa…"

"My son? Is he all right? Where is he? When can I see him?"

"May we talk privately, please, Mrs. Niwa…?"

----------------------------------/**tough/guys/don't/wear/pink/they/fear/it/**----------------------------------

Daisuke blinked and sat up. Other than feeling as though he had been sucked into a whirling tunnel for a bit, the test wasn't all that bad. In fact, for a second, he had thought he'd seen Dark's face.

"Ready, dear?" A nurse helped him off the table and into his shoes. Daisuke wondered why everyone always held out their arm for him now, like he had suddenly become a celebrity. With a last look at the grave doctors at the other side of the room, he let himself be led into an unfamiliar office, decorated in a shade of violent pink.

"This is Dr. Stephanie's office," the nurse said. "Ah…the doctor recommended you visit a psychologist after the poisoning shock. Don't worry," she said reassuringly, "Dr. Stephanie is very nice to children."

Daisuke stared. Dr. Stephanie was dressed in a suit too pink to look at directly. Her strawberry blond hair was tucked back with a magenta ribbon. There was a cherry drink on a nearby cabinet. Taken as a whole, the neon room made him squint.

"Hello, Daisuke," Dr. Stephanie said. Her voice was also a little too high for comfort. Daisuke knew he wasn't going to be looking forward to these visits.

"You'll be coming here for a month, or until the hospital discharges you," Dr. Stephanie continued, fingering a highlighter yellow folder. "So let's start, shall we? You seem to like my room, Daisuke. No, it's okay, keep staring! I think the color rejuvenates patients."

_Rejuvenates, or kills_? Daisuke asked. He needed sunglasses. Dr. Stephanie mistook the grimace of eye pain for a smile, and she returned it, ten times more vibrant.

"Okay, first, tell me who matters in your life, Daisuke."

"…Um…my parents…"

"And? Friends? Girlfriends? Aw, you're blushing!" Dr. Stephanie giggled and threw back her head as Daisuke sweat-dropped, anime-style.

"Takeshi, Riku, Risa, Satoshi…" Daisuke kept naming names, but was surprised when Dr. Stephanie only nodded. He had expected her to take notes or something. Instead, she fixed him with a beady stare, and bobbed her head up and down like a doll to his answers.

Finally, he seemed to have run through the list. Dr. Stephanie sighed for a moment, and then she brightened. "All right, then. If, oh, hypothetically---just pretending here! ---you were to, oh, I don't know, die, would you miss these people?"

Daisuke gaped. She wasn't serious.

"Yes," he said firmly, wanting to say _duh_.

She considered this. "And what would make you feel better, knowing that you'd be leaving these wonderful people behind once you died?"

"Spend time with them," Daisuke said, thinking of all his friends.

"Naturally," she said, as though she was talking to a toddler. "But I do notice you left off one name."

"Who…?" Daisuke thought about it. Dr. Stephanie was starting to creep him out. Why was she asking about death and dying?

"A gentleman named…Dark…" Dr. Stephanie trailed off, scrutinizing his every expression.

Daisuke paled. Dark… he had seen Dark poisoned, he had seen Dark fall, he had heard Dark call his name, he had…spent so much time with Dark, but now he couldn't even bear to remember him. He couldn't bear to tell Risa what'd happened. Because the fact was, Dark had gotten killed because of him. It was his fault that Dark was dead...

He didn't notice he was barely breathing anymore. Dark had fallen, Dark had helped Daisuke many times, and how had he been paid back?

"…my fault," he whispered softly, a flinch escaping.

Dr. Stephanie didn't hear him. Instead, she had enough evidence. She hurriedly scribbled in the highlighter yellow folder:

"Patient experienced nausea and became obviously distressed when the name Dark was mentioned. He knows something about this, I'm sure, but I will need more time to pry it out of him. He also had chest palpitations and shallow breathing. Whether or not he knows Dark did the crime remains to be seen. I really think he's been through enough trauma, though, poor boy…"

When she was done, she set down her pen and felt sorry for his pained face. "Oh, Daisuke," she said sympathetically as she came to hug him. Her perfume was _Rosa Scentafolia_, and Daisuke nearly suffocated _and_ lost his eyesight. Dr. Stephanie crushed his arms painfully. "It's okay to confess…I'm sure you couldn't have stopped that madman. But Daisuke, if you knew about it beforehand, why didn't you tell someone? Why didn't you go for help? We know he was your friend, but…."

_Is she talking about the poisoning? _Daisuke wondered_. What? I didn't know about the poisoning before it happened! If I did, I would have told someone, but I didn't know! Why are you saying I should've gone for help? I had no idea what Krad wanted to do!_

"Friend or not, you shouldn't have kept it to yourself,"Dr. Stephanie went on, still choking him.

Friend? When had Krad been his friend? They were enemies! Daisuke struggled against the vice-like grip. Were they even talking about the same poisoning?

"What are you talking about--?" he managed to spit out before his ribs caved.

Dr. Stephanie held the boy at arms-length. For some reason he looked relieved to have broken out of the hug. "Why, Daisuke," she murmured, "didn't you know?"

He met her blue eyes. She was squatting to his level, and there was pity in her eyes.

"The cup you drank—the poison---they found fingerprints, Daisuke." she said, concern knitting her eyebrows together. "They know who did it! They know who poisoned you!"

"Well, I already know who did it," Daisuke blurted. "But he's not my friend!"

She ignored the last sentence. "I KNEW IT!" she said triumphantly. "I knew you knew you were going to be poisoned! And I'm going to say again, you should've told someone!"

Daisuke sank into a chair. This was tiring him out. His brain hurt again, too. "Whose fingerprints?" he asked, just to skip the lecture.

He had closed his eyes, but they flipped open the second the name left Dr. Stephanie's lips. "Oh, you must not have found out, Daisuke. They traced the fingerprints, and---oh, how horrible---Dark poisoned you, dear."

------------------------------------------/**this/is/when/you/gasp**/---------------------------------------------

"We're sorry, Mrs. Niwa. The tumor has grown extraordinarily. There is very little we can do at this stage in the proceedings."

"Chemotherapy? Surgery? Can't you do anything?"

"We can't operate. Too risky."

"We're sorry, Mrs. Niwa."

"Do you need some tissues?"

Emiko rose, sobs constricting her throat. No. She would not cry. There were others that need consoling.

_My boy_, she thought, _my boy… _

-----------------------------------/**this/is/when/you/cry/or/try/to/fake/it/**-------------------------------------

"Do you remember your name?" the nurse asked.

The blond sat up, amused and confused. "Uh…George Washington?"

oO Oo oO Oo oO Oo oO Oo


	3. Act 3: Hot July Moon

Ahh...fanfiction once again. I haven't been here for a long time, and I hope it doesn't show. Now that even my friends won't read my stories :(

SOME KIND OF FRIENDS YOU ARE

Just kidding...

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**Strawberry Wine/ Act 3: Hot July Moon**

In a prison detention center in the abandoned town of Franco on the New Mexico border, a guard paced slowly. He glanced nervously at the prisoners behind him, all either kidnappers or convicted killers. Jangling his keys, he opened a random gray door and crept in, delighted to be out of sight of the hostile inmates.

"I think he's waking, doctor."

The guard paused at the corner of the hall and slowly followed the voice to a neglected back room. Leaning against the wall, out of sight, he heard murmurs and the quiet hum of several large machines.

"Spencer, check the vitals."

He wasn't being paid to spy on the prison activities, but heck!---they barely paid him at all. The guard settled in and hoped to hear some gossip.

"Yessir, he's waking."

Slight groans came from somewhere in the vicinity of the large room. "Hold him down, Douglas, and Spencer, here, grab this."

Douglas and Spencer made a lot of noise as the groans became more pronounced. The person in charge was calling someone on a wall phone. "I understand, Dr. Stephanie," the person said, and hung up just as the first scream pierced the air.

The guard pressed himself against the wall as a white-robed man strode out the doorway, missing the guard, walking briskly. Breathing a sigh of relief, the guard wondered why the man had been holding a highlighter yellow folder.

"Take care of him 'til I get back," the man said faintly, and went out the gray door to the outside.

"Yessir", Douglas and Spencer said, but their composure was replaced by panic mere seconds later when the what-ever-it-was started yelling in pain.

The guard covered his ears as screams emanated. "I can't hold him!" Douglas yelled. This only seemed to aggravate the screams. "I think we're making it worse!" Spencer yelled back.

"You think?" Douglas retorted as the screaming organism reached 160 decibels, nearing shattering the guard's ears. Holy! he thought and crouched down. What were they doing, torturing it?

He suddenly remembered the latest news about Iraqi prisoners of war and how they were being treated brutally. Surely this prison wasn't one to torment human beings!

Quickly, he peeped around the corner and saw two lab coat technicians trying to pin down a wild purple-haired animal. The animal---no, it was a man!----resisted all attempts to comply, however. If he could speak, the guard would've showed his surprise. But all conversation was unnecessary, seeing as the madman had broken the sound barrier with his agony.

"Fe oon!"

"What?"

"The noon!"

"WHAT?"

"THE MOON, SPENCER!"

"WHAT ABOUT IT, DOUGLAS?!?!?!?"

"I THINK HE'S SCREAMING ABOUT **THE MOON!"**

"WELL, GUESS WHAT, LONGHORN? I THINK YOU'RE CRAZY!!"

The guard scrunched down, also doubting that the moonlight streaming in from one window could cause such a reaction.

There was no reply. With a fever pitch rise, the screams reached the point of no return. Either the guard lost his hearing or his sanity. Faintly, someone was ripping paper.

The screaming stopped.

The guard got one last look of the fanatical purple-haired man before the violet eyes readjusted and he fell back to the hospital-like bed with a content thump.

One of the lab technicians had taken a large poster and covered the barred window to the lab.

"Ha ha, Aggie, Longhorns rock. He _was _screaming about the moon."

Douglas was huffy. "How was I supposed to know the stupid guy didn't like the light?"

Spencer was still laughing about how Longhorns were better than Aggies, but that's a Texas thing and I'll save that for later. The overly shocked guard was lying on the floor, utterly stunned. He had never seen or heard such madness before. Doctors were operating on a madman with a disliking of light. In an army base, in the middle of the night. Weren't these things illegal?

His last thought before he conked out and was discovered the next morning by a jubilant Spencer was _maybe I should get a transfer…_ **  
**

----------------------------------------------------UT---------------------------------------------------------

Daisuke gasped. It sounded rather like he sucked all the air out of the room. This time, he really wasn't breathing. Then Emiko burst in with running mascara to refill the oxygen supply. She took her son in a tight hug, oblivious to the events that had just occurred.

"Daisuke, I'm so sorry…" Emiko started sobbing as they sank onto the ground. "Daisuke, dear, I must apologize for the shock…" Dr. Stephanie began. "Daisuke--." his mother cried "Daisuke---." his psychologist murmured.

Faint purple eyes. The last spark of life fading as pale lips moved one last time.

"Daisuke…" Dark had said. And then Dark had died.

_Was he dead? What was this thin shard of hope nagging at his brain? _

_Why must we get our hopes up only to have them dashed?_

Daisuke knew his brain hurt, but he had not felt this raw anguish before. At the same time, he felt that he was not alone, that there was also someone out there screaming to come to the light and find out the truth (1).

Once, Dark had dared Daisuke to watch a scary movie in which aliens ripped apart the heads of all the humans. This was what it felt like now. A creature was devouring his brain. Too many people were calling Daisuke, but they didn't matter. What Daisuke wanted was for Dark to say his name one more time. For Dark to walk through the door and smile. But first, he needed to get out of the airless vacuum that his mother called a hug.

He burst into the hall and was rewarded with a lush green color on the back of his eyeballs. Relief washed over him in waves. Behind him, Emiko shrieked. His insides felt gooey and liquid. With hurried steps, he made his way to the stairs.

(with his eyes closed, he accidentally waltzed into the wrong door)

The screensaver on his eyelids changed to a vivid red. Daisuke winced but the colors pressed him forward.

_Too scared to admit_

_Why are we always too scared to admit? Why are we always in denial?_

_Dark dies_

_and I instantly fall apart?_

_No_

_Dark died _

_because I fell apart_

_Because I could not save him_

Violet pupils contracting, expanding. Pale lips. So cold. Daisuke could still smell the poison on those lips. He could've laughed at how limp Dark's hair was. Then he realized Dark was in pain.

The poison was already swallowed. There would be no way to suck it back out, out of every organ and every cell it had already pervaded and froze. They would never work again, because as Daisuke rushed forward, Dark was dying.

"_Say something, Dark! Talk to me!"_

But Dark's last words offered no consolation to Daisuke's cries. He had instead, uttered a condemnation, a denunciation.

"Daisuke…" he had said.

_Why do we always assume the worst?_

Reflected in Daisuke's eyes, his name became a source of blame.

_Because we do not understand the world._

Dark is dead, a choir sang in Daisuke's head. Blinding flashes of lights followed and a pale purple sickness possessed him. Dark is dead, an opera singer trilled. _Fiat Lux. Fiat Homo. Fiat Voluntas Tua. _He tried to force it away, and with the help of new surge of beautiful, golden energy, he found himself waking from the memory. With an amazing amount of strength, Daisuke opened his eyes.

He had never noticed exactly how soothing Krad's eyes could be.

**--------------------------------/do/we/choose/what/we/choose/or/is/it/chosen/for/us/----------------------------------**

The boy had funny looking hair and was obviously not very choosy about where he decided to place himself; Krad poked the redhead on his lap and called out, "Hello?"

His nurse had long given up on memory restoration and now Krad was left alone with a peculiar patient who was knocked out on his hospital bed. Peering at the boy, Krad scratched his head. He had no idea his name was Krad, and he didn't know who the boy was either, but something inside him insisted that the proper place for such a boy was not in his lap.

Also puzzling was why the boy had reached one hand out the window for the lilac blossoms outside. There was 5 feet of empty space between him and the flowering tree.

One last scratch and Krad (in fact, since Krad did not know his real name, he had rather preferred the nurse's suggestion of going by Abraham) hollered, "HELP!"

A doctor in a vibrant suit poked her head in. "Don't worry, someone'll come, right now we're busy looking for a brain-damaged child with possible metal derangement. Tell us if you see him" and then she was gone. Krad (or Abraham) stared at the child, wondering if the doctor had bothered to pay attention to him. Was this the child they were hunting for? He didn't look damaged, but then again, a voice inside of him persisted that a brain was located on the inside of the head.

In a motherly fashion, Krad hoisted the rest of the boy up onto the mattress, noting how light he was. Now there was only one foot dangling over the side. Krad Abraham resented the fact that he could not get up, or else he would've put the kid back where he belonged. Even with the physical therapist that visited every day, Krad could not take very many steps at one time. The nurse had said something about muscle degeneration.

Ah, the nurse, the bane of his existence. Pondering how long it would take the hospital to realize the boy had been overlooked, Krad fell asleep.

* * *

I'm so sorry if I insulted any aggies...I personally don't care one way or another, but most of my friends are longhorns. It's just that Spencer and Douglas love arguing and showing each other up (maybe that's why the purple-haired man was in pain).

(1) Ironic how the "other person" now doesn't want anything to do with the light.

Reviews make me type faster.


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